


Angels and Demons and Apples and Lemons

by CynSyn



Series: Sozzled in Soho [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Please Don't Copy to Other Sites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 03:17:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20108296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynSyn/pseuds/CynSyn
Summary: In where an unexpected gift bore more than simple fruit“Why are we comparing apples and lemons? I thought it was apples and oranges.”“Aziraphale.”“It’s apples and oranges, Crowley!” The angel was verging on distraught.





	Angels and Demons and Apples and Lemons

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea because when I'm tired my eyes go blurry even with my glasses sometimes. I was reading yesterday and kept reading angel as apple and demon as lemon.
> 
> Plus, there's an adorable cartoon image where someone tried to summon a demon, but accidentally summoned [a lemon](https://imgur.com/gallery/mnVws6z).  
In case the reader is unfamiliar with the North American idiom, [apples and oranges](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apples_and_oranges).
> 
> Feel free to saunter over to my Tumblr. [https://amadness2method.tumblr.com](https://amadness2method.tumblr.com/)

** At some point past the Armageddonouttahere: **

After a lovely outing, an angel and a demon were, once again, sitting in the back of a bookshop. They had been drinking for, well, for all intents and purposes, for as long as alcohol had been a concept, merely punctuated by expansive moments of sobriety here and there. Tonight was no different. Well, mostly. This time, there had been a large gift basket waiting when they returned to the shop.

_“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” The demon said, smirking as the angel picked it up, looking at the card. It was a thank you for yet another act of kindness._

_“I’m an angel. What do you expect me to do?”_

_“Not just **an** angel. **The** **A**ngel,” Crowley grinned._

_Aziraphale practically glowed as he looked up, away, and back as Crowley held the door open. He opened the package, pulling out a large wooden bowl with assorted fruits in it, placing it on a table in the back while Crowley busied himself opening a bottle of wine._

** * * ***

“This represents me,” Crowley put the lemon on the table. He placed his hand above the fruit bowl, wiggling his fingers as he made his next selection. “And this is you.” He placed an apple next to the lemon.

“But…” Aziraphale looked confused. “But that’s a lemon.”

“Yes, Angel, it is,” Crowley replied, not looking up.

“Why are we comparing apples and lemons? I thought it was apples and oranges.”

“Aziraphale.”

“It’s apples and oranges, Crowley!” The angel was verging on distraught.

He paused, looking in several directions for some sort of clue before looking back at the angel. “What?”

“Apples and oranges, you know, when things aren’t the same, but they are, even though they are clearly not.”

Crowley looked at him for a few moments before squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. “Don’t get lost in the metaphor, angel. Do try to keep up.”

“Walk me through this.”

Crowley inhaled sharply through his nose. “Right. Okay, this,” he held up the lemon, “is a demon.”

“My dear, I do believe you’re spelling it wrong. That’s a lemon. It’s an L, and demon begins with the letter D.”

Crowley blinked and reset. “This _lemon_,” he shook the lemon in front of Aziraphale, “_represents_ a demon. A specific demon. Me. This lemon represents me.”

“But why?”

“Er… well, it, it’s yellow, right? Kind of eye-shaped.”

“Oh. _Oh_! I see!” Aziraphale gasped softly, his expression stricken. “No pun intended.” His contrition dissolved almost immediately into a giggle, echoing his previous comment. “I see.”

Crowley sighed, rolling his <strike>lemon</strike> eyes.

“Anyway,” the demon continued, “this apple represents—”

“And that's... That one is still me, then?” Aziraphale cut him off.

“Yes, good. You’re following.”

“Bit on the nose, don’t you think?”

“I … what?”

“An apple.”

“Eh..It... It was in the bowl.”

“Temptation? Being cast out of Eden?”

“That’s not why I picked it,” Crowley spoke in a way that might have appeared harsh to an outsider, but Aziraphale knew better.

“Then why?”

“It’s not important. You’re focusing on the wrong part of the story.”

“I think I should like to know why you see an apple when you look at me with your demonic lemons.”

Crowley looked down, a faint flush tinting his cheeks gently. “I don’t want to say,” he replied softly.

“Please?” Aziraphale asked with the faintest lift of his eyebrows.

In a voice barely above a whisper, Crowley said, “Because you’re… the apple of my eye.”

“What was that, my dear? I’m afraid I couldn’t hear you.”

He could.

“I said you’re the _apple of my eye_,” the demon hissed. “But if you’re going to be difficult, I could just as easily make you a banana.”

“Why a banana?”

“No idea,” Crowley replied, taking another sip from his glass. “I haven’t thought that far yet,” he spoke, his voice silken and quiet as he traced his finger mindlessly along the edge of the fruit bowl.

“I’m sure you haven’t,” Aziraphale said, coolly but not icily. There were limits, imposed by a tartan bow tie and velvet waistcoat, to the type of cool presented, but that was neither here nor there. Not there, either. Or there. Oh, this was getting away from him rather quickly.

“Angel, listen,” Crowley said, sensing a disturbance in the force. Or at least in the angel before him. “Look, Angel. Sometimes a banana is just a banana, Aziraph- Did you know your name sounds like seraph?”

“What are you talking about?” Aziraphale was thoroughly confused at this point, which, given the general scope and breadth of his intellect, even when soaked in wine, that was saying something. Or, rather, it _would_ be saying something were he not caught up in yet another conversation with Crowley. Lovable, mischievous, affectionately-vexatious Crowley.

“Honestly, I can’t recall. I got lost in the fruit bowl. I was banking on you being too drunk to notice.” Crowley pouted slightly as he spoke, focusing his eyes on the bowl as he tried to spin it wobbly-ly around on the table. In this moment, Aziraphale pondered if perhaps lovable was too strong or too weak of a word. Really, at this point, it could go either way.

“You what?”

“Er, uh, y-yeah,” Crowley stammered a bit before continuing, “It was either that or have to listen to you prattle on about dolphins again.”

_Ah_, Aziraphale thought. _Too strong_. “You foul serpent! I do no such thing!”

“It’s the burden of your glorious porpoise.” The demon lifted his long fingers into the air in a gesture of grand importance, somehow managing to keep his thumb tucked securely around the stem of his glass.

“Purpose,” Aziraphale corrected.

“So we’re in agreement, then. It’s your purpose.”

Aziraphale gaped silently.

“I don’t know how you manage to rope me into these conversations, Angel.” The demon drank deeply, emptying his glass once more, standing up to refill it.

“You did that on porpoise- er, purpose. Oh, I cannot stand you right now.” Aziraphale covered his face with one hand, holding the remains of his own glass of wine in the other.

The demon crouched down in front of the angel’s chair, gently taking the glass out of his hand. “It’s lucky you’re sitting down, then.” Crowley refilled the glass, handing it back to Aziraphale.

“_You’re_ lucky I love you as I do.”

“I am, and I think about that every day.”

The angel smiled fondly, taking a sip.

“And that’s why I put up with you,” the demon said as he sauntered decidedly akimbo upon the couch across from the angel.

Aziraphale stood up, moving towards the demon.

“You and your _obsession_ with—” Crowley’s words were cut off by an angelic finger pressed against his lips.

“My dearest,” Aziraphale spoke with a voice warmed by affection, as sweet as honeyed ambrosia, and as luxurious as the finest silk. “I could listen to you go on about things for an eternity. I would defy Heaven and walk through the pits of Hell just for the chance at another day with you by my side.” His eyes were kind and full of warmth as he beamed in the direction of the one responsible for such rich and wonderful feelings. “And I have, _I have_, and would gladly do it all over again.” The angel moved closer towards the demon as he spoke. Gently, softly, he traced his finger down. Gazing fondly upon him, he looped his finger along the bottom of the demon’s chin, tentatively tracing his thumb along the cleft, tilting his head up. He drew close, closer, almost nose-to-nose, as their eyes met, the two barely separated by a soft breath.

“Having said that,” he continued quietly, his expression simultaneously sharpening and relaxing into half of an unreadable glare, “If you say dolphin one more time, I will be left with no feasible option other than to discorporate you where you sprawl.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Angels and Demons and Apples and Lemons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428276) by [ExMarks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExMarks/pseuds/ExMarks)


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